27
by Cherry Ami
Summary: High-school AU: Shizuo Heiwajima is a major fuck-up and in order to heal himself, he agrees with his mother and is forced to be part of a weekly support group. To his surprise, he sees someone he would've never thought he'd see in a group like this. And it's all for a reason. Rated M, lemon, angst and romance, suicidal thoughts and such. Story is better than it looks.
1. Chapter 1

**HELLO THERE AND WELCOME. **

**If you're a first time reader, well, hi and good luck reading. I update every single day or once every two days. **

**If you're one of my readers, hi again and sorry I haven't updated in so long. **

**For those wondering, I was gone for a while because of personal problems and I just don't have the drive to update my other stories yet. I deleted Shadows of Reflections (don't worry, I will re-upload when the story is finished and is good enough for my own liking, IT IS NOT YET ABANDONED). I needed a new story to concentrate on and believe me, I really needed something new in my life. **

**So here goes.**

**I am NOT a native english speaker, so this story may or may not have typos and grammar mistakes. I will fix them eventually.**

**It is rated M, eventual Shizaya and all that stuff. **

**IT IS AU. Might contain a lot of OOC'ness, but writing a story like this requires that, so sorry in advance. I hope you still like it though.**

**Loads of angst, fluff, smut and stuff. **

**Description: Shizuo Heiwajima is a major fuck-up and in order to heal himself, he agrees with his mother and is forced to be part of a weekly support group. To his surprise, he sees someone he would've never thought he'd see in a group like this. And it's all for a reason...**

**WELL THEN.**

**CHEERS YO. **

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN DURARARA, FOR FUCKS SAKE. **

**P.s. This fic is dedicated to RandomRio, who was such a sweetheart. Thank you for your support and encouraging PM's. You're amazing.**

* * *

"I'm going to pick you up at 8," my mother said, pulling my knuckles to her lips and kissing it swiftly. I didn't smile. I nodded. It made my chest pang in guilt, somewhat worse than before. She was doing whatever she could.

I pulled the sleeves of my hoodie lower, covering half of my fists, gripping the hem of them and praying I wouldn't need to roll them back today. I had enough of my mother's tears whenever I had to wash the dishes or do any chores around the house. She saw my wrists more than I wanted her to. She suffered enough.

"If you don't like it there, we're telling dr. Morris it's not going to work, alright?" she said and I nodded. Again.

I wanted to tell her something, anything. I wanted to tell her I'm going to be okay, she doesn't need to worry anymore, yet I couldn't find the right words to comfort her. Instead, I threw my backpack on my right shoulder, pulled the hood up, covering my bleached blond hair and climbed out of her car.

She lingered in the parking lot, waiting for me to climb the stairs toward the entrance of the building. I looked up, gulping the fresh air, reading the name of the hospital I'm going to visit three times a week. It was nothing much, really, just a depressing looking building. Three stories high. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And thus, I opened the doors to my mother's long awaited sanctuary for her damaged son. I glanced back, watching her hopeful face and in order to destroy myself more, I closed the door behind me, ready to face numerous other depressed people.

I breathed in deeper, silently wishing I could lie in bed and listen to the wind banging on my window. Fishing out a smudged piece of paper from my pants was the hard part. I didn't want to know where I had to go. Still, remembering a promise to my parents, I somehow read the part with numbers. Cabinet 112. At least I didn't have to go upstairs and risk seeing patients or anything.

The receptionist hasn't cut a glance at me when I passed her table, curiously watching the numbers change on every door. 105. 106. 107. 108…

As I approached the cabinet 112, I looked through the windows, watching other groups. Some of them were forced into a circle. I even saw kids hugging each other and crying. Dr. Morris told me there were more groups in this hospital and let me choose the one I wanted to go to.

Naturally, I pointed at the first thing that caught my eye and hoped that'd be enough.

I reached 112, stopping dead in my tracks. Was I brave enough to enter the room and see all this judgment I didn't deserve? I checked my sleeves, nervously pulling them on tighter than before. It was nearly six, and I knew I didn't want to be late. If you were late, everyone would look at you.

I knocked and opened the door after contemplating the idea of accidentally bumping into someone would be far worse than entering a group for suicidal people.

I lay my eyes on a bundle of kids my age. 17 year olds. I gulped some saliva down, trying not to catch anyone's eyes. I found a person I could look at – the group leader. The only adult in the room.

He quickly searched his list, stopping at one name he hadn't yet ticked off.

"Hei-wa-ji-ma?" he spelled it out as if I didn't know how to do it myself.

I did a lot of nodding today, which meant I still hadn't said a word.

"Please join, we have a seat left for you," he smiled at me. I held my head low, looking at my feet when I slumped down on a wooden chair in between two girls. They eyed me and it made me cringe. "And I was sure I told dr. Morris our sessions start at five. Don't worry about the fact that you didn't know, it's not your fault. Anyhow, I want you guys to meet Shizuo Heiwajima."

I heard airy 'hello's and 'nice to meet you's. I didn't talk or say 'hi' back. I didn't see a reason behind it. I wasn't here to make friends or anything. I was here to heal myself.

Having friends got me into this mess in the first place.

"Shizuo," the leader called me out. I looked at him, waiting for him to speak. "My name is Maxwell Norris. I hope we can get along just fine. We're going to leave out your case for this session, for you need to know our ground rules. I guess it'd be best to show not tell."

His voice was so sickeningly sweet, I wanted to hang myself right there and then. Apparently, I entered the room just as they had half of the session to go. I swore in my head, knowing that I accidentally stumbled upon my own fear of running late and having all eyes on me.

_Calm yourself. You're here because you need to overcome your fears._

"Now," Maxwell said. "I've heard we have a new problem in our group. I'd like that person to tell us what happened and we will try to help."

There was a loud chuckle. It made my skin shiver and goose-bump in a single second. There was nothing calm or normal about that chuckle. It came from a person just as broken as me. I followed the sound and found the owner instantly.

He was leaning back on his chair, hair raven black and eyes piercing red. There was nothing worse than seeing his milky white skin shine, especially when he was wearing a low cut t-shirt, sleeves shorter than I wanted them to be. His skinny jeans hung low on his hips, covering most of his butt, a few chains attached to his left side. His converse completed his 'rebellious' look, which, as I figured, was his lame mark.

No, that wasn't why I stared at him like he was an abomination. I stared at him because his arms were covered in scars, blue hue matching the red slashes, some of them healing next to white stains of proof of what he has done before.

And there was an eye-gawking truth I didn't want to acknowledge.

I knew him.

"So, Izaya, care to share today?" Maxwell asked.

Izaya Orihara. Our high-school's sweetheart, known by everyone, loved by more, and hated by most. I, for one, was one of those who hated him. Rumor has it he slept with anyone willing. He's mister popular.

Which made me think. I've never seen him in a t-shirt. He was always wearing the same jacket with its hood covered in fur, his hands safely hidden from other eyes. Why was he openly showing scars that our school has probably never heard of? Why was he in a group for suicidal teenagers?

He seemed to not know who I was and I was grateful for it. I wanted to stay low. I had enough problems already and letting my school find out I'm a social fuck-up was the last on my to-do list.

"Two weeks ago, I cut one of my legs and accidentally cut too deep," he announced, sounding utterly happy about it. "Which ended up with me in the hospital and my parents losing their shit."

I looked around, watching everyone's reaction.

No one moved a muscle. No one was disgusted or thought he was weird or a psycho. They were all too understanding.

I was the only one who thought this was not okay. It wasn't normal to be so delighted with what you've done to your body. I had my fair share of pain and razors and every single time I was utterly hopeless. I felt nothing. I was numb.

How in the world was Izaya able to talk about cutting his leg and lying unconscious in the hospital with such enthusiasm was beyond me.

"I've heard you had a bad case of blood-loss," Maxwell said. Izaya nodded, stretching his back. His shirt went up, revealing a flat stomach and a line of black going to his navel. "Would anyone like to comment or help Izaya go through his problem?"

At first, the room was silent. I saw a few girls looking at each other. Then, I noticed than none of us in this group had revealing t-shirts on. We all hid our true identities behind hoodies or long-sleeved sweaters. Izaya was the only one who wore his scars proudly and with no shame.

I wondered if he wanted to be pitied. If he wanted to show everyone what he has done to his body to claim it was his own and no one could tell him what to do with it.

A boy raised his hand and Maxwell pointed at him.

"I just wanted to ask," his voice was slightly deeper than Maxwell's, which made him look manlier than he already was. "Why do you keep doing this? Is that how you cope with your pain?"

Izaya flashed him a smile. He leaned forward, cocking his head sideways and staring the boy straight into his eyes. "I keep doing it because this world is full of idiots and that was the only way to know I was not one of them."

Maxwell sighed at his words. "Anyone else?"

A girl to my right raised her trembling hand. She was holding her sleeve with a tight grip, which reminded me I was doing the same thing. "I think you should stop self-harming and find a hobby or something."

Maxwell clapped his hands and nodded in approval. "That is a great idea –"

"No, it's not," Izaya interrupted him. "Norris, can we please stop it with the 'hobby' thing? I've been here for a year and as much as you want me to stop cutting or tripping, it's not going to work."

Izaya's eyes glistened with power and as he leaned back in his chair, I could see his eyes quickly darting to me. I held his gaze for two whole seconds until I caught myself and looked away.

Maxwell pursed his lips, figuring it was no use getting it out of Izaya. I started questioning everything, from Izaya's behavior to Maxwell's ways of dealing with patients. I was not sure I wanted to sit here with a bunch of lunatics.

"I think we're done here for the day," Maxwell said and some of the kids let out breathy exhales. "Next time we'll surely hang out until 7, but today I'd like to end the session early."

Most of them stood up and grabbed their backpacks, hurrying out of the cabinet. I was about to leave as well, thinking how I should call my mom and tell her the news, when Maxwell approached me. I glanced at Izaya, who threw his jacket on and stormed out of the room with others.

"I'm sorry your doctor told you the wrong time," he apologized. "I know it must be hard being late to a group like this."

"I don't particularly care," I said. "My mom set me up for this anyway."

He cocked his eyebrow up. "I'd still like it if you could give a chance to this group," he said. This guy 'liked' things a lot. It was as if I was a personal problem to him and he needed to solve it. "If you don't like it after three sessions, you can stop going. Promise."

I clutched my backpack and thought about my mom. I'd try for her.

"Okay," I said and turned to leave.

"Remember, 5 o'clock!" Maxwell shouted as I was closing the door. I was happy I was the last one to get out of the session, meaning I didn't have to talk to anyone but Maxwell. I dreamed about my bed once again, letting myself be excited about going home for once. I dialed my mom, telling her the story about how I was 'accidentally' late and how I needed a ride home. She told me I had to wait for a half an hour, since she was doing some shopping. I answered 'okay cool' and told her she needn't hurry, because I was fine and I could wait.

I just needed a smoke. Badly.

I hurried out of the building, a lighter in my hand and a cigarette in between my teeth. I earned a few concerned looks from other psychiatrists and the receptionist, but I couldn't care less. This was my happy place. Just me and my lungs, filled with poisonous therapy of my own.

I lit up the tip and inhaled. I could feel the relaxation almost instantly, my muscles going from tense to utterly calm. I sat on a bench in front of the parking lot, where I decided I should wait for my mom.

It was then that I remembered I didn't have my iPod. I swore out loud.

"Shizuo Heiwajima, right?" I heard a voice next to me. As I looked up, I saw a pair of ruby red eyes staring back at me. "I know you from school."

I exhaled the fumes and threw the cigarette away. Izaya stood beside the bench, his attention to me.

I glared at him, not even close to opening my mouth and answering him. What happened next was a different thing altogether. He lunged at me, one of his arms holding a small razor-sharp knife at my neck. At that particular moment, I saw him stumble a bit on his leg, probably the one he cut two weeks ago.

"If you ever tell anyone about me or this group," he whispered into my ear. I felt strangely numb. "I'm going to slice your throat."

I let out a low chuckle. His eyes widened and then he smirked.

His knife dug deeper into my skin, almost slicing it. "I've done crazier things, you know," he said.

"Go ahead," I said. "Kill me. It'd be better for me and for everyone else."

He paused before sucking in a breath and backing off. My skin tingled in places where he touched me and not in a good way. I lost any sense of caring long ago.

"Alright, brute," he said, a new form of an insult reaching my ears. "Since you don't care if you die, then let's at least say that if you tell anyone, I'm going to make sure everyone knows about you and that hoodie thing you have going on here." He gestured at my arms and I instinctively shuffled the fabric closer to my skin.

I wanted to live and I wanted to forget. If Izaya told anyone about this in school, I'd be screwed once again. Well, fuck my life.

"Deal," I said. "I wouldn't tell shit about you anyway. A flea like you doesn't deserve the rumors."

He was hesitant at first, but let down his guard. Izaya hid the knife in his pocket, turned on his heel and ran off, leaving me and the bench alone.

I was definitely and undoubtedly leaving the group after those damn three sessions.

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**Could you guys spare me some time and leave a review? *shares a cookie with you if you reviewed***


	2. Chapter 2

**And away we go with the start of our plot. All will make sense in the near future.**

**Thank you guys for your kind reviews, they made me very happyyyyyy. And all the follows. **

**May or may not be some typos and grammar mistakes. As I said, I will correct them eventually.**

**If you have any questions, ask.**

**Disclaimer: NOPE, DON'T OWN IT.**

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_Baby, if you don't take your medication  
We won't sleep for days  
We won't sleep for days._

* * *

I've never had the luxury of someone driving me to my school. We lived fairly close to it and, judging from my current situation, my doctor suggested I walk there every day.

It was supposed to be therapy. I had to breathe oxygen in, think about how beautiful life is and ponder about my feelings. I haven't yet done any of it, except for breathing. Guess who didn't find this therapy helpful.

I didn't like thinking, because it made me remember everything from ground zero. I often lay in my bed, looking through the window and letting my brain flow somewhere else, somewhere deep where no one would find me. It was my mind castle where I lived in harmony with myself.

I was walking down the road, minding my own business, smoking a cigarette and listening to music. It was my only savior at the moment. I listened to tunes that made me feel relaxed. Most of them told my life story. I wore a red hoodie today, its sleeves longer than my arms. I tended to pick clothes that were bigger than me, since I needed them to cover my body. I pitied myself for this. Sometimes I thought that I could not care what others thought and go around with slightly less warm clothes, yet I couldn't bring myself to do it. Why? I don't know.

I was so into my music, almost singing along to the lyrics. They were roaming in my veins, my heart was beating at the rhythm of the drums and agony in the main vocalists voice. That was exactly how I felt and I didn't want it to be any other way.

The moment was perfect for my depression and real life was bound to happen. Especially when it took form of a Silver Toyota and a very mentally deranged driver.

I heard Izaya call after he looked really, really pissed off. I took out my ear-phones, staring at him through my half covered eyes. I desperately needed a haircut.

"Are you deaf?" he asked, stopping his car next to the pavement. I continued walking. He huffed and ignited the car again.

"What do you want?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to put my ear-phones back and drown in misery.

"I asked you if you wanted a ride."

I shook my head.

"I'm giving you a ride," he said. This time, I halted.

"No, you're not."

"Come on, Shizu-chan, what could happen?" he smirked, happy he could park his car for a few minutes he needed to talk me into climbing in. Wait. Shizu-chan? "Get in."

"Shizu-chan? –"

"You're getting in or I'm telling everyone."

I stared at him, wide-eyed. This little fucking shit –

I didn't hesitate a second. I strolled to his car, throwing my backpack on the front seat and slumped inside. I didn't have time to glare at Izaya, who shifted to first gear and stepped the speed up. We moved out of place, changing lanes immediately.

"Really?" I asked, my voice covering my anger. "You're blackmailing me into hitching a ride with you?"

He reached into his jean pocket, looking at the road while doing it and pulled out a tablet. Izaya glanced at me before popping the tablet into his mouth and swallowing it. I barely cared what it was, since I just wanted to go to school and never see his face again.

We approached our school and I was about to unbuckle the belt when, surprisingly, Izaya passed the parking lot.

"What are you –"

"First thing's first," he said, speeding up. I looked at our school, which was gradually fading into the distance. "I needed a companion for this day's trip and you were the first I spotted today. Second, it's a well-known fact you're in my hate fanclub. Third – you're not going to ask questions."

"Why –" I started but he raised his hand and shushed me.

"No. Questions."

"How the fuck do you know me, flea?" I asked before he could shut me up. He exhaled loudly.

"I'm not in the mood for questions, can we just enjoy the day off? You can go back to hating me in about five hours or so."

"Just answer the damn question."

"Fine," he said. "I know you because you're blond. I'm interested in blonds. It's a very sensual color, you know."

I raised my eyebrow at him. He raised his back at me.

He groaned. "Fiiiiine. You're the 23rd blond on my list, which is why I know your name, your address and why you're at the support group."

I didn't know how to answer, so I prepared yet another question. "How come you show your scars at support group and hide them at school?"

"Didn't I tell you I won't be answering questions today?" he snapped. "You're lucky enough I actually answered one."

"You're a fucking lunatic," I said.

"And you're in a car with me."

"Not my choice."

"Oh, but it was. I blackmailed you and you could've chosen the part where I reveal your secret to our school."

I didn't answer. I figured it'd be best to go along with him, since the only thought that crossed my mind was 'at least I can get away from school for once'.

We drove in silence, Izaya occasionally taking sharp turns and speeding whenever he had to. I remained still, hugging my backpack to my chest, looking at the bypassing view. My mind was filled with various questions about Izaya. Why was he taking me somewhere with him, especially if he knew I hated his guts?

I was worried he was going to assassinate me, since he looked like that kind of a person, but instead, he pulled up in a parking lot next to a beach. There were barely two cars in the whole lot, ours and one other. He turned off the engine and stared over at me.

"Here's the reason why I brought you with me," he said. I didn't meet his eye. "I've been dying to get past my 23rd blond guy and I was planning on blackmailing you into it anyway, so –"

"What does that even mean?" I asked. "23rd?"

"It's none of your concern. Can I kiss you?"

I was taken aback by his question. In all of my years of depression, self-harm and self-hate, I've never received such a straight-forward question. And it all came from mr. Popular, the biggest asshole on planet earth.

"No!" I yelled. He smiled.

"Remember our deal."

"No fucking way, flea, I am _not _up for kissing a psycho like you –"

"Shizu-chan," he stopped me midway. He grabbed my arm and I panicked. His hands on my wrist…my…wrist… "I need to get past you. One make out. That is all. I will leave you alone."

I was barely hearing what he was saying. My heart was hammering against my ribs, anxiety rising in the deep pits of my stomach. Get your hand away, get your hand away, GET YOUR HAND AWAY FROM ME

I quickly jammed my hand out of his and desperately clung to the door. I felt like I was the smallest thing in the car, afraid of moving and afraid of him touching me again.

He froze when he saw the fear on my face. Then, a smile wrapped his lips.

A devilish grin.

"Oh," he huffed out.

I forgot how to breathe or think. This wasn't what I planned, I wanted him to leave me alone and never use blackmail again. I wished I could be back at my safe place at home, covered in sheets of white and with music in my ears.

And hell, I was stuck here with Izaya.

He started shuffling around, grabbing the hem of his jacket and removing it. I watched him, panic still settled in my heart. He shuddered at the cold air hitting his injured skin.

Once again, I saw his scars. Hundreds of them. Different shades and different sized.

He pointed at the biggest one. "This one I got seven months back."

He pointed at the smallest one, barely noticeable. "This one was my first."

He looked into my eyes, the deep hue of crimson carving horrors into my mind. "You should not be afraid of your scars. It's who you are."

I gulped down some air, suddenly feeling braver. "You're fucking insane," I said, literally feeling as if I never wanted to see Izaya again.

He started the ignition again, not even looking at the road. He smiled. "Look who's talking."

Izaya drove back and this time, I followed our tracks, hoping he's taking me home. After a while of awkward silence, he coughed and wiped his forehead.

I glanced at him.

"Tomorrow, after support group, I want you to make out with me. Like you mean it. Like you want it."

Silence.

"I will fuck off. I will never blackmail you again."

I inhaled.

"Your choice." He offered and stopped right at my front lawn.

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**Shizuo is suffering from depression, which makes him care less about everything around him. This is a hint, yo.  
**

**If you review, I write more. Not even kidding. 8D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Three day streak, woop woop.**

**Thank you guys so much for your reviews, woooow.**

**Takoizumegane - YES, I AM A SHERLOCKIAN AND I WAS HOPING SOMEONE UNDERSTOOD THAT REFERENCE LMAO. I, myself, have a shitload of feelings toward blonds. That's the main reason why I like Shizuo so much. Unf. Also, you'll find out the meaning behind the title soon enough. Izaya has a lot of shit up his sleeve. 8D**

**GO AHEAD AND READ. As always, I will correct typos when I can.**

**Disclaimer: NOPE, DON'T OWN IT.**

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"Mom?" I asked, poking at my cereal. She raised her eyes from the newspaper, sipping on her coffee.

"Yes?" she answered, her voice showing she was concerned. My parents were concerned about me all day every day and for some reason I couldn't blame them.

I thought about yesterday and how Izaya managed taking two precious hours of my life just for a single ride to the beach and back. If he hadn't offered a make-out, I would've wanted to feel the sand beneath my feet and maybe even dip them into the salty water.

"Have you ever kissed someone without meaning it?" I asked, letting go of the idea that I should eat. I felt sick and didn't want any food in my stomach.

She looked up, letting out a huff of air. I knew she was thinking back to her old days and she was more relaxed now. I was pretty sure she thought I would ask her something more complex.

"Yes," she said. "I have. In fact, he was your age."

"Oh really," I said, suddenly feeling slightly better. I don't know what it was, but moments like this, when I could be myself with my mom without worrying about medication or scars - they were too precious to me.

"Oh yeah," she laughed. I loved the way her laughter sounded. "I was terribly drunk, but don't tell dad." She winked at me and I let out a smile. It seemed to suffice and for once, mom looked gleeful.

"Wait, didn't you guys meet when you were like twenty three?"

"Still, you know how jealous he can get," she said. "I'm in no place to risk our peaceful life now."

A stung hit my chest. She noticed something was off, but I let the moment slide.

I didn't recall our life being peaceful. Not since everything that has happened.

I've done enough of shit to make my parents sad, crushed with pain and depressed. And yet, they refused to let me go. Especially when I was on the verge of dying.

They helped me through everything and I was grateful.

I coughed and pushed the plate away from myself. I gave my mom a reassuring smile and stood up.

"Call me if you feel sick again, okay, sweetie?" she raised her cup again.

I nodded and, grabbing my backpack, walked out the room, out through the door and out to the unwelcoming world.

* * *

I occupied a chair at cabinet 112 a little too early. I avoided Izaya the whole time I was in school, practically shifting to different places just so he wouldn't spot me. I saw him laughing with his friends, hitting one of their shoulders. He had a particularly large group of friends and I found it odd that you could see him with all of them in one bundle.

He was practically a leader in their eyes.

Izaya was a player, so to say. I've heard his weird fetishes from my former friends. One of them accidentally fell into his trap and slept with the damn bastard. The guy kept telling me he had a knack for brown haired boys and he was 26th. Poor guy didn't know what the number meant, but he sure thought wrong. Especially when Izaya didn't 'do' normal relationships. Every single person that tried establishing something more with him ended up being thrown out and bashed upon.

And, it got me thinking again.

He said I was 23rd in his long list of blondes. I wasn't up for playing by his rules but the future of my sanity relied on him and the school not knowing what kind of a fucked up situation I had to live.

Also, the fact that Izaya admitted he knew why I was at support group left me confused even more. Wasn't that stalking?

I was in no place to wonder when people started filling the room. Izaya entered midway, counting the chairs and then ending his eyes on mine. He smirked.

Well, fuck.

He smiled widely, obviously strolling past a girl and a boy, who were watching him as if he was eye candy. I, on the other hand, quickly threw my backpack on the unoccupied chair next to me.

"I'm saving a seat," I said before he could remove the stupid backpack and sit.

He eyed me in suspicion, shrugged and...

Sat directly up front, so that whenever I faced the opposite of me - I'd look at him.

I nearly groaned.

Thank fuck for a boy that entered the room just as I was contemplating the idea of running off and showing Izaya I was absolutely up for skipping the session and hiding from him. The way his eyes lingered on me and no one else was terrifying, to say the least.

I waved over to the boy, hoping Izaya wouldn't notice how I didn't know the guy and the boy happily skidded into the seat next to me. I smiled at him, not even looking over at Izaya.

"Hey, I'm Shizuo," I whispered to the guy. He stared at me.

"Tom," he said. I was pretty happy that kids here never raised their hands to shake them with newcomers. Personally, after I got my hoodie addiction, I've never shaken a hand with anyone.

"Cool," I said, letting a nervous breath out. "So, how's it going?"

He bit his lip. "Nothing much. I'm celebrating my 'no cut month' today, though. You?"

I liked this guy already. "Could be better. Hey, can I ask you something totally unrelated?"

He nodded. I took a quick glance at Izaya. "What the fuck is that guy's problem?"

Tom chuckled. "Orihara is... a rough case. I heard his parents made him go here, that's why he's rebelling all the time."

I mouthed an 'oh' and was about to ask another question, when Maxwell entered the room. I shifted in my seat, still hugging my backpack. This time, I let my hood down, uncovering the bleached blond flocks.

I saw Izaya's eyes glisten at the sight. Fuck me sideways.

"I'm glad to see you here, Shizuo," Maxwell said and I shrugged.

He started off the session with a little rant about self-harm and how it affects not only us, but our family. I tuned out whatever he was saying, since the eye-fucking of Izaya continued off.

He didn't let his gaze off of me for one second and I felt as if he had me mentally undressed and under him.

Maxwell asked everyone questions and applauded when Tom announced he was 'month-harm-free'. We all congratulated Tom and the guy seemed happy with himself. I felt happy for him too.

Then, the talk died out and Maxwell turned to me.

"Let's talk about you and your struggles," he said.

I gulped down the gigantic rock in my throat, not even slightly ready for a stupid interrogation about my life.

"Hm," I humphed. "There's not much to tell."

"You could try," Maxwell said. I looked over at Lucy and Martha, two girls that told their stories before me.

"I don't really know," I said. "I don't have struggles."

Maxwell looked disappointed yet didn't urge me on. He thought of a better idea.

"You can talk about everything whenever you're ready," he encouraged me. "Also, I have a new therapy for you guys."

Some of the people groaned. I could've agreed to anything that did not require moving around, but Maxwell had other plans for us.

"The rules are simple. You find yourself a pair, tell them one thing you'd want to change about yourself and hug them. Then, you move on and do the same to another person. That way, we can know more about each other and help ourselves too."

There was a shuffle of chairs moving, kids getting up. I was hesitant at first, thinking this was a bad thing to do, but got up anyway. The first person that approached me was Lucy.

"Alright, do you want to start or do you -"

"You go," I said before she could finish. She inhaled.

"I want to change my hair," she said, dead serious. I contained a laugh. "It's so unbelievably shaggy. Your turn?"

I thought about it. "I want to change my feelings," I said. "I don't want to be depressed."

She smiled at me and hugged me, still clutching at her too long sleeves. I thought about how her hands would look like if she wore a t-shirt. I wondered how many scars she was hiding.

Next one was a boy, Lucas. Then, Mary. Jonah. Stephanie. Even Tom.

And for fuck's sake, Izaya.

He strolled up to me and I didn't even have time to turn to someone and start talking. He caught my hand and looked me dead in the eye.

"You go first," he ordered.

I paused before saying anything. "I'd like to change my point of view. I want to know more about life and actually care about it for once."

He still held a tight grip on my hand, holding me as if I were to run away.

"You?" I asked, wanting nothing more than this little chat to end.

"I want you to be my 23rd blond," he said.

"It's not how this game works," I reminded him. "You're supposed to tell something you want to change about yoursel-"

"I don't want to change anything," he said, pulling me into a tight hug. I could feel his chest against mine. Izaya put his chin on my shoulder, breathing harsher. I hesitated wrapping my arms around him because whatever this feeling was, I didn't like it. "I'm happy with myself."

"You wouldn't change your scars?" I whispered into his ears, my hands still not moving.

"Never," he said. "Put your arms around me."

I did.

We stood like this for a few seconds, before Maxwell said the game was over. He pushed me away and took his seat without another glance.

I was absolutely positive he still wanted to kiss me. He still wanted me as his 23rd something.

I was already planning my little escape from the building, silently wishing I wouldn't have to see him after therapy and know what his lips allow.

* * *

**Spare me a little review, ne? It'd help my self-esteem. *heart***


	4. Chapter 4

**Four days in. I've been listening to Fall Out Boy - w.a.m.s. non-stop. That song just gets to me. Also, if you want to know what song this fic is based on, listen to Fall Out Boy - 27. It's awesome.**

**Alright, again, thank you for your amazing reviews. Hi BlueIsMyFavoriteNumber! I missed you. 8D**

**Neoma-sama: Izaya is a slut, I know. It will be explained in time, don't you worry. We're here to make him struggle less, ne?**

**OK, SORRY FOR TYPOS AND GRAMMAR MISTAKES. **

**READ ON, YESSSSS.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own shit, and if I did, Drrr would be a major gay fest with a lot of 'doing the dirty' between boys. **

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" I heard a distant voice just when I was walking through the door. I groaned and turned around to see Izaya, who was still not wearing his hoodie.

"Uh, home?" I said. I opened the door and hurried down the stairs. I cursed myself for not calling mom beforehand. Oh, how I wished to see her car parked outside, so I wouldn't have to talk to people I don't like.

"So you've chosen the part where I tell my friends about your state?" he caught up to me and walked with. I glared at him, pulling my own hood down again. I saw his look change from mischief to want in a mere eye-blink.

"I'm not particularly interested in kissing you," I said. "It's not how I work with kisses."

I watched the road before me and suddenly, I felt Izaya's hand in my hair. I was surprised he wasn't gripping at it or tugging - it was barely a hint of flesh on my head, his fingertips lingering on my flocks. I flinched away and he let out a hearty breath.

"Sorry not sorry," Izaya said. "It's just that your hair... it's so... captivating."

"You're creepy," I said. "Leave me alone."

I sped up my walking, yet it struck me that Izaya was fast as well.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he hissed.

"Then you're in a lot of trouble, buddy."

He halted for a second, pulling his jacket on. I breathed easier when I couldn't see the scars anymore.

"Why are you so against making out with me?" he asked, again, curiosity in his voice.

"Maybe because I don't want to be one of your toys, haven't you thought about that?" I said, wishing I could roll my sleeves back. It was a hot day. Too hot, in fact.

"And I don't understand why," he urged on. "Think about the possibilities - I'd get the fuck away from you and you'd get yourself a boner. What's not to want?"

I sighed and stopped walking. "You're a stranger, for starters," I said. "And I've heard things about you."

"Like?" he asked, folding his arms on his chest.

"Like the 26th brown haired guy you slept with?" I said. "14th girl with a tight gap you had oral from?"

His lips were a tight line.

"Or maybe I should mention one of the teachers at our school? What number was he? 35th?"

I turned to go but he caught my hand. I looked back at him, seeing his face lowered. He was smiling. That little fucking bastard.

"27th," he said.

"Say what?"

"27th," he repeated and, quick as hell, pulled on my hand, so I landed in his embrace. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I had to look down to see his lips.

His face was way too close for my liking. His breath tickled my nose, heat scorching my insides. I did not like feeling like this at all. My heart nearly stopped.

It's been years since I've been so close to another human being.

"The last teacher I slept with was 27th," Izaya said. "The last brown haired guy I fucked was 27th too. And the 27th tight gap girl I had oral from? Never had anyone with that kind of a preferred gap."

I struggled to get free. Izaya remained stubborn and tugged me even closer to him. His body heat reached mine, making me even hotter than before. I desperately wanted anything chilly.

"The list you're currently on has stopped at 23. I'm sick and tired of waiting for an opportunity to get past you so I'm just going to harass you instead."

"Wha -"

I couldn't finish my sentence, because Izaya's lips were quick on mine, fulfilling my desire of something cold. For some unknown reason, his lips breathed ice. It sent shivers down my spine, wiping the heat down to zero, leaving something entirely different spreading down in my stomach.

I didn't move, so Izaya caught is a silent yes. For a moment, my head was absolutely empty, crickets here and there.

Then, I started responding.

I kissed him back. Like I meant it. Like I wanted it.

Like Izaya wanted me to respond.

I felt his lips curl into a smile and he pulled back for a moment. I had my eyes closed, so I couldn't see his or what his expression was.

And then he kissed me again. This time, with more fever. This time, with more raw passion. I could tell he was especially skilled from the way he intentionally snuck his tongue through my lips, asking for entrance.

I gave him a pass straight away.

He was experimental, at first. Then, his hands were in my hair, his tongue entangled with mine and our puffs of air mixed with each other, creating a little symphony of him moaning into my mouth and me groaning for more.

Just as I was about to lose control, Izaya pushed me away and wiped his lips furiously. Only then did I understand what just happened. I was angry.

He chuckled, with little breaks for air, his chest heaving up and down. I was a little breathless myself but it still didn't mean I wasn't mad at him.

I wanted to punch him and nearly raised my fist, when I remembered the last time I used violence. I let my guard up immediately, not even thinking about beating him up anymore.

"Phew," Izaya said. "23rd. The best so far."

"That's all you have to say?" I huffed out, letting my anger rise again. "You fucking assaulted me! I could sue you! -"

"But you won't," he laughed. "I'm just glad you turned out better at kissing than any of the boys I ever kissed."

"Fucking asshole!" I shouted at him and ran off.

If I were there for any longer, I couldn't force myself to be calm. I would've murdered him.

And yet, I fucking cursed myself for actually liking the way Izaya was so responsive and greedy and lusty and...

Better than anything I've ever tasted.

* * *

I got back home, threw my backpack into the corner, said hi to my parents and without a single word, climbed up the stairs to my room.

The kiss was intense, and naturally, without any action for two straight years, I had a little problem.

My pants were too tight. I tried making my mind wander off to somewhere gross, like my parents having sex or my grandma in lingerie.

Nothing helped.

Izaya was stuck in my head. The worst part about it was that I was actually counting to 27 over and over again. It also made me realize Izaya got past me, earning a 23rd guy in his blond list. It meant he had 4 more.

I ended up being one of his toys for a mere twelve seconds of his life and mine.

Furious, I opened up my laptop and turned it on, going in for the kill. For some unknown reason, I had Izaya as my facebook friend from long back, which only made sense now. I was in his list for god knows how long. He's been stalking me. He's been fantasizing about me.

I thought that asking him more questions was in the contract. He assaulted me, used me and I needed answers.

I logged in to facebook, found his name, clicked the message button and inhaled.

_Shizuo Heiwajima: You are an idiot, a fucking douche-bag and a god damn asshat. As much as I never want to see you again in my life, I want to know if I'm in any other lists of yours, since I don't even know what to expect from you anymore._

_If I'm in any of them, please erase my name. If you ever try getting close to me again, I will punch you and I will enjoy it. _

_Good night. _

I pressed send and leaned back on my chair, balancing on it. I couldn't talk to anyone about this god forsaken problem, let alone think about it alone. Why was he so persistent? He had multiple lists of 27 people and I wasn't even sure there were only four lists total. Knowing that sick bastard, he could keep dozens of them.

Why was the number 27 significant to him? I pondered over it for quite a time until I heard a 'ping' from facebook.

I nearly crashed down with the chair, that was how quick I was to fall back on my normal seat, clicking the little box open.

Naturally, Izaya responded with a small message, just like his feeling of shame.

_**Izaya Orihara: You're on a few of them. **_

I typed him another message.

_Shizuo Heiwajima: I'd be very pleased to know you've erased me from every single one of them._

I saw him typing and eagerly waited for his reply, my heart thumping inside like it was a wild animal.

_**Izaya Orihara: I was considering it. After today, I have no second guesses.**_

I sucked some oxygen in.

_Shizuo Heiwajima: About what?_

I waited for his answer, but he didn't reply. No 'yes' and definitely no 'no's. I felt the anxious feeling deep in my stomach die down. I figured Izaya let it go after seeing my reaction to his kiss.

Still, I felt his lips tugging at my own. I subconsciously raised my fingertips to feel the flesh of my mouth. I could taste him on my tongue and smell him without him being close.

I wanted nothing more than to forget everything that happened today and knock him out cold in my fantasies.

I shut my laptop down, hoping sleep would cure whatever it was that I was feeling.

* * *

**Please review, okay? I live off reviews. **


	5. Chapter 5

**I genuinely hope I'm not moving too fast. I'm always concerned about developing romance. xD**

**THANK YOU FOR REVIEWS, DARLINGS, I appreciate them a loooot. And it's funny, it has 27 reviews at this exact moment. I cracked myself up.**

**namea33 - omg, I'm so glad you like my storyyyy. Ooh, and the secret of 27 will be revealed later. 8D We still have a lot of catching up to do.**

**If you like this story, you should go read my other fics. Especially my baby "Praying for stars".**

**I will edit mistakes when I can. If there are any.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DRRR, nor I ever will.**

* * *

It took me all of my will power to get up in the morning and head to school.

Mom made me breakfast that I poked for several minutes before deciding I was not hungry. I was losing my muscle and getting thinner every day, yet it wasn't a problem to me. The way I felt inside was what's important.

Two years before, I didn't think I'd be addicted to pain. After the accident, everything changed. None of my family would ever talk to me about it and I wouldn't want to do it anyway. I was hid inside a shell, struggling with my own suffering.

The first cut I made was an experiment. I remember standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, quietly cursing my brown hair. I hated the color so much. I wished I could change it.

I was holding a razor blade, as I was just about to shave my morning beard. I don't know what has gotten into me.

I slashed my wrist, causing three little lines redden. I watched small drops of blood make their way out of my skin. The pain felt so unbelievably good, it was frightening.

That's when it started. It became a habit of two years.

And now, look at me, acting like a good boy, forgetting my addiction and hiding away the scars I had.

Today Izaya didn't drive up to me. I was happy I didn't need to see his face anymore. I guessed he was a man of his word. He promised he'd fuck off once I made out with him like I meant it.

He wasn't the first guy I've ever kissed. There was this other time when I was absolutely sure I was straight. It was a party at my former friend's house. I consumed a little too much alcohol, causing my brain to melt and not think what I was doing.

When one of my friends back then was bi-curious, I laughed at him. Well, until we accidentally made out in the bathroom. His hands ended up somewhere they didn't belong and I found myself liking it.

We haven't talked since and that was a good thing. He proved to me that I was, in fact, bisexual and he remained straight, not even taking a glance at boys ever again.

I've been with several girls. I knew what sin tasted like, how a girl's breath hitched when I worshiped her body with my tongue. I knew everything.

I still haven't experienced a male body and I wanted to keep it that way. I couldn't risk emotional attachment, and from what I've felt - I knew loving someone (especially a guy) was hard.

Still, the way Izaya kissed me was nothing like a woman's kiss. It was raw and greedy. It was filled with that true manly feeling. His body was tough, his arms rougher than anything and it turned me on. I tried not thinking about it. I honestly did.

I made it to school just in time for the first bell. I took my seat in calculus, opening my textbook, but barely listening to the teacher.

I prayed school would end sooner.

* * *

I received a call from mom just when school was over.

"Shizuo?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"There's been a problem at work," she said. "I don't know when I'll be back. You can order a pizza for dinner. Just be careful, okay?"

"What about dad?" I asked.

"He got called in," she exhaled. My dad was a famous vet. "He's probably going to sleep at the hospital."

"I'll be fine," I said.

"I know you will," she said. "You're a champion."

I snorted.

We said our good-bye's and I hung up. Usually I would've been happy about news like this, but somehow, I wasn't that ecstatic. I hated being alone and I needed someone to sleep at the house in order to feel safe. I'd have to pull an all-nighter against my own will. Great.

I walked out through the school gates and caught a glance of Izaya. He was chatting with a tall black-haired guy, obviously leaning in closer and flirting with his whole body.

I lingered, biting my lip at the nervous feeling I had in my chest. This was nothing. Izaya was a widely-known player. Of course he'd move on and hit on someone, that's how he worked with all his stupid lists.

And for fuck's sake, I couldn't help feeling jealous. It wasn't my problem who he was sleeping around with but that god damn kiss clouded my head all too much. I thought about walking up to him and show how possessive I was but then Izaya looked over at me.

He immediately stopped flirting with the guy and simply stared at me. His eyes were telling me stories unknown. I saw him say something to the guy and he started walking toward him.

That's when I ran.

I didn't want to deal with these unknown feelings of lust. I wanted to feel his lips on my own again. I wanted to touch him this time, to really touch him and not just stand there awkwardly. I wanted to kiss his collarbone, lick the middle of his chest and maybe, just maybe touch his inner thigh with my fingertips.

These passionate feelings came out of nowhere, without a warning. I was a depressed kid with various cuts on my body and I wanted Mr. Popular.

I ran all the way back home, not looking back. I knew Izaya wasn't following me anymore, but I couldn't bring myself to stop running. I was breathless by the time I reached my door, frantically searching for my keys.

I closed the door behind me, leaning into it and breathing deeply. What the fuck was wrong with me?

After calming myself down, I ordered a pizza. I watched a lousy movie on my laptop. Finished my homework.

Checked my facebook.

Ping.

I opened the message, seeing it was from Izaya. I cursed under my breath.

_**Izaya Orihara: Why did you run away?**_

I typed faster than the wind.

_Shizuo Heiwajima: Why the fuck do you care_

_**Izaya Orihara: We were eye-fucking each other. **_

I didn't have time to answer.

_**Izaya Orihara: Don't you dare lie to yourself, I know you've been thinking dirty things about me.**_

I flushed at the sentence. Who the fuck did he think he was?

_Shizuo Heiwajima: I was not._

_**Izaya Orihara: But you were. **_

_Shizuo Heiwajima: Go fuck yourself._

_**Izaya Orihara: Fucking myself is out of the question. I prefer being fucked by dirty minded blondes. ;)**_

My brain shut off but my dick had other intentions. My fingers were trembling and I typed with a certain fury, sometimes missing a letter. I groaned when I had to correct some words over and over again.

_Shizuo Heiwajima: You know what? I'm done talking with you._

I left my computer and went downstairs, wishing for a cup of hot cocoa. My mind was spinning around Izaya and how his half-lidded eyes covered his lusty gaze. I could imagine sweat trickling down his forehead, his hair looking slightly-fucked. Izaya's muffled voice at my ear, his leg on my torso, his crotch against mine and...and...

I caught myself in an act of betrayal.

I was fantasizing about that fucking asshole.

Before I understood what I was doing, I smashed a cup on the ground, watching the porcelain scatter. I was angry, confused and definitely aroused to the core of my brain.

Quickly, I swiped what was left of the cup, threw it out and forgot about the cocoa business. I went back to my room, thinking I could jerk off to some porn but instead, I saw one new message from facebook.

I shouldn't look at it.

But I did.

_**Izaya Orihara: I'm pretty sure you're going to be captivated by me soon enough.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: Every person I've ever made out with had difficulty with their boners or vaginas afterward.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: I can help you with that.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: Shizuo.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: Don't you fucking dare ignore me.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: I know you're there. **_

_**Izaya Orihara: I know you're thinking about me. **_

_**Izaya Orihara: Shizuo.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: Shizuo.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: Shizuo.**_

_**Izaya Orihara: Fine. **_

And that was it. It was ten minutes ago.

I re-read the lines once more. _I can help you with that._

I got a shiver down my spine, worse than before. I have never wanted a guy this much. Izaya was a mad good kisser and I could only guess what he else he was good at. Instead of watching porn, I shut the laptop down, crawled into my bed and tried to be calm about everything.

My boner was painfully throbbing in my pants and I was about to have the biggest blue balls problem ever. Yet, I didn't help myself. I couldn't do it, because I knew... If I touched myself, I'd be gone. Far off in the land of Izaya.

The thought scared me senseless. I hated him so much for making me lust for him, especially when he didn't deserve it.

He assaulted me, used blackmail and made me generally disgusted with lists.

I had yet to find out what the number 27 meant to him and it was frustrating.

Frustrating to know I was probably still in most of his lists.

* * *

**Could you guys review? It boosts up my self-esteem and I double the effort. xD**


	6. Chapter 6

**Shizu-chan, just give into temptation, ok?**

**Guys, I love you for reviews, keep 'em coming!**

**Ignore typos and grammar. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own DRRR shit. **

* * *

"You ignored me yesterday."

I directed my attention upwards. I was eating lunch, sitting beside a tree. I was perfectly fine sitting alone.

So there stood Izaya, hands in his pockets, head cocked to one side. He was dressed casually today and the only thing that was the same was his furry black jacket.

I managed swallowing some food and raised my eyebrow. "I should've replied because...?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because I was about to make an offer."

I took a bite of my sandwich. Sometimes I was eager to eat, sometimes food made me sick. There was no in between.

"I bet you wouldn't care about my opinion anyway."

"That is correct," he said.

"So why bother offering?"

He bit his lip. I mentally slapped myself for looking at him inappropriately.

"I wondered if we could hang out after support group."

I almost spit my sandwich out. Me? Izaya? Hanging out? Not happening.

"I refuse," I said, packing the rest of the sandwich. I wasn't hungry anymore.

He sat down on the grass right in front of me. I eyed him in suspicion.

"You were on seven lists total, three of which I had to cross you out because you dyed your hair."

"Pardon me?"

"You dyed your hair."

"I heard that part," I hissed. "Seven lists?"

He sighed. "Seven. Rule out three, you get four lists. Out of those four, I completed one of them. Three left."

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you," I said. "You're horrible, a psychopath and a lunatic."

"There's nothing wrong with making lists of people and what you want to do in life."

I paused. "Wait, so there are lists of yours that do not involve people at all?"

He laughed, pinching the grass. "As much as I love humans, I have a life outside of humanity, you know."

"Enlighten me."

He looked up as if trying to figure out what to tell me.

"I have 27 places I want to visit."

"That's it?"

"I'm not finished yet."

"Go on," I said.

I watched his eyes move to mine, admiring the deep crimson. It looked like Izaya didn't just fuck everything that moved. He had genuine plans for his future.

"27 foods I want to try. 27 jobs I'm going to follow. 27 poems I want to write."

He went on with lists of 27, sometimes surprising me with their simplicity. When he stopped, I was a bit taken aback by his normal state. I nearly forgot about his scars and the kiss that we shared.

"Fair enough," I said after a while. "Can you at least warn me about the lists I'm in?"

He smiled. "27 hang outs. 27 friends."

"What's the third one?"

He breathed in, shuffled closer to me. I froze in place. His hand snaked its way to mine, brushing its fingertips on my skin. "27...sex partners."

Fucking... HELL.

"No," I said. "No. No no no no. NO."

"Oh yes," he said. "You know you can't resist me."

"FUCK NO -"

He reached up and covered my mouth with his hand. I frantically searched for people who could help me, yet we were sitting in a place that was barely acknowledged by others. I was so fucked.

"Shh," Izaya whispered. "Shizu-chan, behave!"

I stopped moving and stared into his eyes, unable to speak.

"It's your own choice in what order you want to do this," he said. "I'm not asking for a quick fuck. I'm asking for a sex partner, as in, not a one-night stand."

I clutched at my lunch.

"This would be beneficial for both of us," he said, smiling. "We both know about scars. We both need some sexual relief. It'd be fun."

I shook my head and he took his hand off, seeing I won't run away from him.

"You perfectly know that I hate your guts," I whispered, afraid of someone finding out.

"That's why our sex would be amazing. I can take it rough. I can bottom."

I flinched, panic rising in my stomach once again. What he was offering was bullshit -

"I couldn't complete this list for two years," he said, looking me dead in the eye. "You're the last one."

"I can't do this -"

"You don't have to do it now," he explained. "You're still in my two other lists."

"I can't just become your friend -"

"That's why you're in my 'hang out' list."

"What's up with the number 27 anyway?"

"I'll let you find out if we have sex."

I slowly raised on my feet, taking one last look at Izaya before the bell rang. He followed me with his eyes. I could see a distinct spark of passion.

"No way I'm doing this," I said, checking if my backpack was safely closed. "I can't just undo the hatred I feel for you."

He snorted and then let out a hearty laugh. "Hang out with me," he asked.

I shook my head. He pouted. "Pretty please? Once?" his voice changed from manly to girly in a second. I groaned.

"No."

I turned around and ran toward school.

I was not prepared for a boner in my pants, especially one that was caused by Izaya.

* * *

My mind was a blur all the way back home. I couldn't figure out what to do.

I was split in two, one part of me shouting 'HAVE SEX WITH IZAYA. NOW.' and the other 'RUN AWAY AND FAST.'

What confused me was how laid back Izaya was when talking about us both having a sexual relationship. We were both fucked up more than anyone at our school, yet he had a group of great friends, while I was a loner for two years. He could have anyone crawling into his bed, yet he chose me. I looked into the mirror when I walked into my house. There was nothing special about me.

My blond hair was my trademark sign. Mocha eyes were hazy and lonely. My nose and jaw sharp.

That was pretty much it.

I remembered the way I looked before cutting and before the accident. I was muscular, brown haired and happy. Now, I was skinny, golden haired and miserable. How can one thing change a person so much?

Then I thought about whatever Izaya has gotten into. His scars were obviously not because of his 27 lists. I could see more than a hundred on his arms, all different from the other.

Basically, I knew Izaya for 4 days now and I already got kissed. The other creepy fact that he wanted to sleep with me.

Me.

The social fuck-up. The one that couldn't keep a razor away from my own skin. The one that fucked things up so much that it hurt everyone around him.

I got back to thinking about his body and his porcelain skin. I imagined him without scars, naked and whimpering beneath me. He said he could bottom. I very much appreciated it in my head.

Fuck, I had to stop thinking about Izaya in such a way. This offer was never happening, nor it ever will. It wasn't my problem Izaya couldn't complete his stupid lists without me participating.

On the other hand, I could refuse having sex with him and try hanging out for once? Maybe he wasn't the kind of guy I thought he was. Maybe I made shitty assumptions about him, based on the rumors around school. Surely, Izaya fucked anyone who wanted him and I couldn't blame him. He was a teenager, just like me.

I had cravings of my own.

I haven't touched anyone intimately for two years.

I was so afraid of getting naked and showing various scars on my body. I was afraid of their reaction. I had a lot of chances, yet I refused. And now, when I had a genuine offer from a guy who had the same problem, I was thinking about how I could get out of this situation.

When I could just simply say yes and get it done. Was it such a bad idea that I wanted to relieve my sexual pressure?

I chased these thoughts away by doing homework. I had a shit ton of work for calculus and I needed everything done by 5. I had one more session before I would decide it was working. I knew Maxwell would ask me about my struggles again and I smiled to myself.

I couldn't deal with problems myself, so why would I want to talk about them with strangers?

The only reason I sat there like a good boy was the sight of people who scarred themselves intentionally. They were fighting it. I wanted to fight too, but in my own way.

I had a lot to think about.

I just prayed I wouldn't get distracted by thinking about Izaya.

* * *

**Can you please review? Pretty please? 8D  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I had an exam yesterday, sorry I didn't upload. Here you guys go. Thank you for reviews. 8D (again, sorry for typos and shit, ignore them)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DRRR. Or maybe I do. **

* * *

I was late to support group. I rushed inside and Maxwell smiled at me like the sweet idiot that he was. I didn't like him one bit, even though he was supposed to help me with my problem.

I looked for any open seats and was not surprised that the only one left was next to Izaya. He had his jacket on it and from what I saw, he was hiding a smile.

I rolled my eyes and strolled to take my seat.

Izaya took his jacket and hung it on his own chair. I stared at his now healing wrists, fairly disgusted by him.

It's not like I didn't want to start cutting again. Once you start, there is no going back. You relive the moments when a razor so sharp cuts through your skin, sending tingling pain down to your nerves. It took my mind of. It was my personal dirty secret. I was trying so hard to get away from my past.

And yet Izaya was indulging it.

"I was saving you a seat," he said, now giving me his most pleasant smile, which was a definite lie.

I didn't answer.

This session blew. Maxwell asked a few girls about self-harm and comforted them after heartbreaking stories about how their family sucked or no one understood them. He tried talking me into it, but I refused. I wasn't likely to share my story with a complete stranger and a bunch of other suicidal teenagers. When it was Izaya's turn, Maxwell sighed.

"Izaya," he started. I saw Izaya preparing for word battle. "I have heard your mother is in the hospital."

"You heard correctly," Izaya admitted.

"How do you feel about that?"

"I cut my chest yesterday," he answered with a full-on smile. I was disgusted by him. To think I tasted the lips of such an asshole.

Maxwell pursed his lips and leaned forward. "You have been in this group for a year and it clearly doesn't help. I'm sure we can explore new options, if you'd like -"

"I don't care," Izaya snapped. "I'm only here because my parents want me to and also, Shizu-chan needs a friend."

He turned to me and winked, to which I responded in an open-mouthed manner.

"I don't need a friend -"

"So you two are friends now?" Maxwell said, interested.

Izaya nodded. "The best kind," he said. I wanted to protest but Izaya quickly clutched my hand and squeezed it. "He's helping me a lot."

Maxwell clapped his hands. "Oh! So Shizuo is your new 'treatment'?"

I looked around frantically, seeing more than curiosity written all over other kids faces. I tried yanking my hand out of Izaya's grip but he tugged it. I was trapped.

"I've been through a lot," Izaya said, obviously putting a play up for the audience. "He's always there for me. I...I called him yesterday, you know, after I cut. He hushed me until 4 a.m."

Izaya literally had tears in his eyes, manipulating every single person in this room.

"How do you feel about this Shizuo?" Maxwell asked.

I glanced at Izaya, who shot me a 'play along or i'm blackmailing you' look.

"I'm embarrassed," I said the truth, not wanting to lie. I've had enough of Izaya's puppy eyes. I knew it would give me nightmares later.

"I understand," Maxwell said. He saw our arms linked and I noticed his face softening. "Young love."

Izaya nodded and my face fell into a huge bucked of red paint. I couldn't believe Izaya just fucking made every single person in this room believe we were more than friends just by playing out a horrifying role. He wasn't sweet. He wasn't caring. Izaya cared only for himself and that was the point where I couldn't understand why he hasn't let go of my hand for the rest of the session. I could feel his blood pulsing beneath his skin. Izaya's heat scorched me, my hand started sweating. And he didn't let go.

He acted.

When the session was over, I was eager to call mom and tell her I didn't want to go here any longer. I'd go to dr. Morris, explain him how being in this group didn't help and I wanted a different treatment. I fantasized about it in my head, when I got back to reality and felt Izaya pulling me out of my seat. We were the only one's left (besides Maxwell, who observed us like we were some kind of a psychological experiment of his) and Izaya had plans of his own.

He dragged me out of the room, not bothering saying good-bye to Maxwell.

I yanked my hand (finally) and halted. Izaya turned around.

"What was that?" I asked.

"What was what?" he answered in a question.

I gestured at the cabinet we just left. "We're not friends, not lovers. Why the fuck are you doing all of this? Do you feel satisfaction while feeding lies to unsuspecting teens?"

He chuckled. "But Shizu-chan," he said. "Wasn't it fun? Weren't you enjoying yourself, making them believe every word that came out of my mouth?"

I simply stared at him in disgust.

"Making people believe something you say is so easy," Izaya said, walking toward the exit. I followed him. "I love observing their faces, their reactions. I can see lust, jealousy, curiosity. All these emotions - they make me feel alive, you know?"

I didn't know.

"I could fuck every kid in that room," Izaya said. "All I have to do is make them believe I care and wave my finger. They'd come crawling."

"You disgust me," I said.

"I know," Izaya said, lost in thought for a few seconds. "Why don't we watch a movie at my house tomorrow?"

"No."

We went outside and Izaya walked with me. This time, I knew I'd push him away if he even tried touching me.

"Why not?" he whined. "We already kissed. I have a pretty big movie collection."

"You'd probably rape me."

"No way," Izaya said. "I don't 'rape' people. I get a clear 'yes' before sex."

"Like I believe you," I said, not really telling the truth. I believed him. It was a strange feeling. Every day I learned something new about Izaya and I was not sure how I felt about it.

"If you come watch a movie at my place," Izaya started. "I can get past my 27 hang out list. There'd be only two to go before I fuck off for good."

I thought about it. Maybe, just maybe, if I agreed, it'd go away faster and I could live in peace without thinking about Izaya and his lips. I could hang out with him. I could pretend I was his friend for a little while.

I would have to somehow get around the 27 lovers list.

I gazed into his eyes for a while, admiring their crimson color before exhaling deeply.

"Okay."

"C'mon, Shizu-chaaan... Wait. What?" Izaya said.

"Okay. We can hang out once."

"Really?"

"Once, though," I said. "I just want your fucking flea ass out of my life as soon as possible."

He gave me a genuine smile. "Which means were going from this list to the last one in this order, right?"

I considered punching him.

"Just shut the fuck up and tell me when and where."

* * *

I came back home, in desperate need of talking to mom. She was already back from work, making dinner. I tied an apron on, deciding I should help her.

She was more than happy to let me chop vegetables.

"How was support group?" she asked.

"I don't like it one bit," I said. "I actually wanted to talk to you about this."

She didn't stop working on the steaks but I could see her face changing.

"Okay," she said. "But isn't it just you exaggerating? You've only been to three sessions."

"Maxwell said I could drop out after three."

"Who's Maxwell?"

"Our group leader."

"Oh."

We stopped talking for a while. I was thinking about what I should say next. I wanted to convince her I was better off dealing with this alone but she put her knife down and sighed.

"Shizuo," she said. "I know it's hard going through all of this. But your father and I think you should continue the support group for as long as you possibly can."

"But mom -"

"It's only been three sessions," she said. "End of discussion."

I chopped the last vegetable a little too angry, making her flinch.

"Is that what you would've said to Kasuka if he was in a situation like this?" I asked, my anger rising.

She froze.

"Don't...don't bring Kasuka into this conversation -" she almost whispered.

"Or what?" I snapped. "He's dead anyway. I'm sick and tired of you and dad pretending that he didn't exist."

She didn't look at me. Didn't spare a single glance.

Only then did I realize how harsh those words sounded.

I gaped at my words, somehow afraid of what was about to come out.

"I...I didn't... mean to.." I said, cleaning my hands into the apron. "Really, I'm sorry, mom -"

"It's alright," she breathed out. She blinked as if to make the tears go away and I already felt horrible for bringing up Kasuka.

I went ahead with myself and hugged her. She hugged me back.

And then we both started crying.

* * *

**WOW, WE'RE ALMOST GETTING TO THE POINT WHERE SHIZUO REVEALS HOW THE FUCK DID HE FIGURE SELF-HARM WAS A WAY OUT OF THE PAIN.  
**

**Sorry for caps lock, I'm way too excited.**

**And I will stop asking for reviews, I'm not writing this story for them anyway. It's purely for your enjoyment (and mine). So you can do as you please, I'm happy either way. *heart***


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for reviews and faves, guys. So so so much. **

**I accidentally listened to "The Cab - Temporary Bliss" and figured it's the exact ode to this fic. Please go listen to it. I like to think that it's Shizuo singing about Izaya. I felt like such a teenager when fangirling over music feels. xD**

**If you have any questions, do ask, I'm going to answer.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own DRRR or anything except for my laptop and love**

* * *

"You can wake him up," I heard my mom's voice from the other side of my room door. "He's a hard sleeper."

The sound of my door opening made me wrap myself in the sheets. I was still in that mid-sleep stage, when the only thing in my mind was how to keep my eyes closed.

"I'll make breakfast for you guys," my mom said and I heard her walking away. Someone entered my room and I opened one eye to see who it was.

Raven hair and furred hoodie.

I rose up faster than usual, which made my head a bit dizzy and I gathered the sheets around me. I slept half naked, which meant that Izaya, who was currently in my room in all his stupid glory, would see my scars whether I liked it or not.

"I thought I'd have to improvise to make you get up," Izaya said, smiling.

"The fuck are you doing at my place?" I shouted.

He quickly jumped on my bed, slapping his hand on my mouth. "Shh!" Izaya hissed. "I told your mom I was your friend from support group."

"Yhouh 'haat?" I mumbled through his hand. I rummaged underneath him.

"I also told her I'm taking you on a road trip today, so she let us both skip classes."

That's it.

I pushed my sheets away and gripped his hands, pushing them away with my real strength. Izaya looked surprised I had the amount of power in me. It took me two seconds to climb on top of him and trap him with my body mass. I held him down and when he tried struggling - it was no use. He couldn't move.

"Wow," he huffed. "You're actually strong."

I wanted to pull out a snarky comment back, yet I found his eyes discovering my damaged skin. There was barely a patch without scars left. I had a few white messy scars on my chest and abs too. He gulped down some air, locking his eyes with mine.

I refused to budge. He made me reveal myself. Fine. Good. I could do this.

"I am," I said. "I could crush your skull with my bare hands."

He chuckled. "Fancy," he said. "Hey, you up for our road trip?"

I concentrated on his crimson hue staring back at me. "Not going anywhere with you."

"You promised me a hang out."

"I promised you a hang out with a movie, not some stupid road trip."

"The road trip I'm talking about requires us to get some take-out from the city next to us and then driving to my house."

I swallowed some saliva down. "That's far from a road trip."

"That's a good enough road trip for your mom," he explained. I got my hands off of him and climbed out of my bed.

"I feel like this is going to be one hell of a road trip," I said, grabbing my shirt. Izaya still sat on my bed. I caught him checking me out. "Stop looking at me as if I was dinner."

"You know I've never seen you half naked before," Izaya said. "Or witnessed your muscles. Those hoodies you wear block out your potential."

"Potential as in a good lay? I'm not into that shit," I said, throwing a t-shirt over my shoulder.

"Not a good lay. A great lay. One of the best, in fact."

I looked back at him. "Drop it. I don't like physical relationships."

"Or you're just afraid of showing off your scars."

I froze.

"I hit the right answer, didn't I?" Izaya cooed. I was still half-naked, looking for a decent shirt. His words sent shivers down my spine, and that wasn't good for my mental health.

I was silent until I felt his hands wrap around me from behind. My first instinct was to push him away but then my skin responded to his touch. It was heat and lust and want. All in one.

He put his forehead to the middle of my shoulder-blades, somewhat trying to comfort me in a way only he could. I knew he was a liar, that he was manipulating me just to get into my pants. And I could get away.

Yet I didn't.

His lips touched my flesh, just a butterfly kiss and I let out a hearty breath.

He stayed like that for a few minutes before I could speak.

"Please don't touch me," I whispered.

"Why?" he whispered back into my skin, once again kissing it.

"I might just snap and do things I'd regret later..."

He slowly unattached himself from me and I could feel the places he touched burn.

"The offer still stands, Shizu-chan," he said as I finally found something decent to wear. "I'm all yours when you want me."

I dressed and looked at him, now sitting on my bed again. "Let's go eat," I said without any other comments on his offer.

* * *

"Shizuo never tells me what happens at support group," my mom said while pouring orange juice for Izaya. "And he's pretty secretive about his friends, so it's interesting seeing him so relaxed when he's with you."

I shoveled food into my mouth, hoping this interrogation would end sooner and I wouldn't need to face more of Izaya's lies.

"We're from the same school," Izaya said, sipping the juice. "We've never met before support group."

"Oh," mom said. "I guess you guys just clicked, huh?"

"We sure did." Izaya flashed her a smile. I coughed.

"You done?" I asked Izaya. He looked at me and put the glass down.

"Thank you so much for this feast, Namiko," Izaya addressed her by her first name. My mom nodded and waved us off.

"Shizuo, be back by 10," mom said.

"Can't make you any promises," I joked. Izaya flinched at my words and opened his mouth to ask something, but I pushed him toward the door. "See you, mom."

We walked outside and I spotted Izaya's Toyota parked next to my dad's Hummer.

"Do you even drive?" Izaya asked. I shook my head. "You should get rid of that hoodie, you look better without any clothes anyway."

I glared at him. "Fuck off."

"I'd prefer the term 'fuck me' but we can fuck off too, if you'd like," he said and winked.

I paused and climbed into his Toyota. Izaya followed me in a matter of seconds, firing up the engine.

"Why do we have to drive so far away to get take-out?" I asked when he was turning out from my place, looking both ways for other cars.

"Because I know this ass kicking Chinese place," he explained. "It's worth the drive."

"Oh yeah, sure, let's fucking waste fuel and your money."

"I have enough money," he said. I got more comfortable in my seat, suddenly remembering the way his lips felt on my back. "I can waste it without worrying."

"Your parents are that rich?" I asked.

"No," he laughed. "They're rich enough to take care of my sisters. I'm rich enough to waste my own money."

I didn't know which one I wanted to know more - about his sisters or about his job. I decided going with the latter.

"Never thought you'd be the working type."

"I bet you wanted to ask about my sisters too," he said.

We were silent for the rest of the ride, because I refused to talk to him. He was a fucking mind-reader. I didn't like it. I didn't like how he observed everyone around him, how he thought out every little detail about how he should act, talk or breathe. I didn't admire his lingering look on my body or how his eyes lit up with lust whenever I accidentally let myself slip.

I subconsciously rolled my sleeves up, let my scarred flesh feel the wind blowing from the opened windows.

Izaya noticed the change, but didn't comment on it.

It was an hour drive and when we reached the chinese place, I was sort of hungry.

Izaya left me in his car, quickly ordering something for the both of us. I barely cared what it was, I just wanted this day to be over sooner.

Yet when he came back with two big bags of food, I couldn't help noticing the way he walked and how his hair glimmered in the light. He looked almost tired of everything for a single second but his expression changed after he noticed me looking at him.

He dropped the bags in my lap.

"Eat up," he said. "I took two rounds of food, we'll have plenty for the movie."

I opened the bag and it brought a little smile on my face, because there was a single bottle of strawberry milk inside.

"I didn't know chinese restaurants had bottles of milk for sale."

"I knew you like that stuff, so I asked one of the guys here to go out and buy some," Izaya explained.

We were driving for about 10 minutes and I was done with half of my box of chicken. I tasted the milk, savoring the smell and feel of it in my mouth. I put the bags on the back seat and took my hoodie off.

Izaya eyed me in suspicion.

"Keep your eyes on the road," I ordered. And after a little pause... "Thank you, though."

He nodded, switching lanes. "You know why I'm doing this."

"To get into my pants."

"Exactly."

"Still, thank you."

"Okay."

The flutter of my heart sent awful shivers, causing me to understand one little thing.

I was already captivated by Izaya, just like he promised me.


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't know if I'll update tomorrow, so here goes: I'm leaving for an Anime Con this weekend, so I'll probably surprise you guys with a new chapter on Monday. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do writing it.**

**Thank you for the reviews. x3  
**

**Disclaimer: Don't own DRRR. **

* * *

Izaya lived in his own apartment and if that wasn't weird, apparently, his parents and sisters lived in another city.

"Seriously?" I said. "You live alone?"

We entered his apartment and the first thing I saw was how modern his furniture seemed. The walls were elephant bone white, anything else charcoal black. Izaya threw his keys on the counter next to the entrance and motioned for me to take off my shoes. I gladly did, since his floor was covered in a very soft looking rug.

I wondered how many people he has fucked on his floor.

"Let's just say I'm a very responsible person," he said and disappeared into the kitchen. I figured I could make myself at home and entered his living room.

It was as modern as everything in the house, a plasma TV standing in the middle, accompanied with a comfy looking couch. Izaya had more than three paintings on the living room walls, making it look something more human. He returned from the kitchen with two glasses of see through liquid.

"Vodka," he said and raised the glasses. I scrunched my nose. "Don't be a pussy. I'm going to mix it with syrup just for your sweet tooth."

"How do you know I have a sweet tooth -"

"Observation."

"Okay."

He fetched some cherry syrup and mixed the drinks. I haven't had any alcohol for two years, so having just one would change my sober state into a slightly drunk state. If it meant this day would end sooner - fine. I needed relaxation.

It was hard sitting around in Izaya's apartment without my hoodie on. My skin was not used to open-air situation, so I was shivering ever so lightly. Izaya gave me my glass and raised it higher.

"To our hang out and to our future together."

I didn't cling. I just gulped everything down in one go. Izaya looked impressed.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked.

We sat down on his couch, Izaya way too close for my liking. I shuffled further away and could almost feel him rolling his eyes.

"Anything is good," I said, wishing I still had a drink in my hands. Izaya was slowly sipping his. I could tell he wasn't into the sweet taste of the syrup but he didn't show it.

"Fine," he said. "We're going to watch Avengers."

I snorted. "The Avengers? Wasn't that a Marvel movie?"

"I'm a bit obsessed with Loki," Izaya said while flipping his TV on. "And by 'a bit' I meant 'absolutely'."

"He's the bad guy."

"He's misunderstood."

"Like you?"

"No, I'm fucked up."

"I agree on that one."

He opened his usb drive, revealing an impressive amount of movies in full HD. I couldn't say I was not interested in what movies Izaya liked watching. He wasn't relaxed when being with me. It made me wonder - was ever Izaya relaxed and his real-self?

He pressed play and leaned back.

As I was expecting a normal, silent hang out with a movie, Izaya decided against it.

He started commenting on everything. Every single line, he'd say something. He'd explain theories, pause the movie and tell me a random fact about quantum physics or some random bullshit.

I couldn't believe I'd like the way he was talking. I was eager to listen to his new facts or comments or whatever that came out of his mouth. Izaya had that stupid charm in him. I hated myself for liking his company too much. I didn't feel how we ended up closer to each other again. How his shoulder touched mine and how I leaned into him whenever he paused the video again.

We ended up watching the movie for three hours, one hour consisting mainly of Izaya's blabbering.

He rose from his seat, announcing it was time for more Chinese food. This time, we tried fried dumplings, and they were pretty good.

Izaya insisted I pick a movie next. Being a bit dizzy from the alcohol, I took a shot and asked if he had something funny. He immediately found '21 jump street' and pressed play. I waited for the upcoming storm of commentary, yet he didn't talk.

He just watched the movie without speaking anymore.

I was getting a bit uncomfortable seeing that Izaya was not really into the movie. I didn't like the silence or how the wind from the open window licked my unprotected skin.

I quickly grabbed the remote and turned to Izaya.

"You're silent."

He didn't spare me a glance. "I'm thinking."

"You're always thinking and talking at the same time," I said. "I know something is wrong."

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, finally looking me into the eye.

"Yes."

He breathed in. "I can't control myself around you," Izaya said. "You're all I think about these days. It's been what, a week since I officially got to know you?"

This time, I didn't answer.

"I've been observing you for the past year and now that I kissed you, your idiotic blond head won't leave my thoughts. Do you know how many times I've mentally fucked you on this couch?"

"I'm guessing a lot."

"More than 14 times this week," he said."As I said before, I don't fuck unless my partner wants me too. It's frustrating. Not only sexually, I guess. I can't concentrate in work, at school, anywhere."

"Not my fault you want me," I said. Our shoulders were still touching.

"I'm a man of my word, Shizu-chan," Izaya said. "I just want a good lay without being judged or worshiped. Kissing you was something else entirely. I felt the electricity between us. I can't count the times I wanted to feel the real thing when we're tangled up and moving against one another."

His words took me aback. I don't know what made me do what I did after - it certainly wasn't the alcohol.

It was probably the lack of touch in two years. The lack of passion or sex. I wanted to feel his body next to mine, endure the pain he'd cause while dragging his nails down my back.

I wanted his muffled moans in my mouth while I pleasured him in various places.

I touched his chin, turning it to me. My eyes met Izaya's and it was as if he wasn't even surprised. Of course the fucker knew I'd agree with his completing his list. As if he knew I wanted to damage myself in ways different from cutting or drinking myself to death. He was aware of my wish to destroy myself spiritually.

His eyes fluttered closing, his lips slow on mine. I moved upwards, quickly dragging Izaya in my lap. He wrapped his legs around my hips, causing our crotches to shift against each other. The long awaited moan from Izaya was what caused my whole body to react faster, harder. I kissed him like he was medicine and I was dying. Our tongues danced together, fighting for dominance without hesitation. I grabbed the hem of Izaya's shirt, urging him to lift his arms so I could yank it over his head. We broke apart for a mere second, that's how long it took to make him sit half-naked before me.

My hands roamed over his chest, pinching half-hard nipples. Izaya's breath hitched and I heard a soft whimper coming from his throat. He arched into my touch, begging for more attention. I kissed down his throat, leaving trails of saliva. Izaya leaned his head back, letting me enjoy the saltiness of his skin. I sucked on his flesh, leaving more than three kiss marks in my way. Izaya lifted his hands once again, directing my head so we could taste each other's lips again. He was kissing me like there was no tomorrow. The way he bit into my bottom lip and dragged it toward himself was why I was over the edge.

I thrust up, grinding our covered erections together. I was surprised to find out Izaya had a harder boner than mine.

He drew back, took one glance at my shirt and wrapped his fingers in it. Then, he moved quick - ripped the shirt with such strength, I didn't think it was possible when Izaya looked so fragile. His face was flushed with lust. I looked into his crimson eyes, searching for feelings.

Nothing.

Hollow.

And I welcomed it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello guys, I am back and this fic is living up to its rating. YAY.**

**I guess I have some explaining to do? xD**

**BloodintheWinter - wow, thank you for so many reviews, I wasn't expecting them. xD I'm really happy you like this fic. **

**RandomRio - I knooow, I'm pissing myself off with making them OOC, but I do have some explanations as to why I'm doing this. You were right about Shizuo being a dog. I was aiming for that, and I guess I succeeded? It's going to change in the future. Just hinting that. 8D Also, Izaya. I have the same image in my head. Izaya the untouchable. So I made him the one who makes the decisions whether a person can touch him or not. I will reveal more stuff later, don't want to add spoilers. The point is, he's not that much of a whore as Shizuo makes him to be. More about that in the fic, I promise. I'm exploring story options, because this fic is more of a filler for my other stories I have in my head. Bear with me, hun. x3 **

**There we go. I'm making this fic 20 chapters long, we have 10 more chapters for explanations and such. c:**

**Thank you for reviews, they made my day. **

**Disclaimer: Fuck me sideways, I DO NOT OWN DRRR.**

* * *

Touching him. Feeling him. Devouring him.

It all felt like I was playing in his little game of passion and animal lust. Izaya's hands were all over me, struggling to get my clothes off. I kissed him with fever. His taste thundered its way to my brain cells, making me feel as if we had feelings for each other. Deep down I knew - it was impossible. I still raged with anger, hating his guts. But why did it feel so good? Why was I so captivated?

He murmured my name into my mouth and I groaned. Just as Izaya's hand ended up in my boxers, I realized this thing between us was more than wrong. Izaya, the man with a number obsession, has fucked basically everyone in school and I was about to become another chess piece on his board.

I leaned back and slapped his hands away. Looked into his eyes. Wiped my lips.

He questioned my actions.

"Shouldn't we continue?" Izaya asked.

I shook my head.

He frowned. He looked unbelievably amazing in his almost-fucked hair and I had to somehow restrain myself from kissing him.

"You've fucked countless people," I said. "I don't fuck just for the sake of it."

Izaya touched my face and I flinched. "Shizu-chan," he said. "I've only been with 26 people."

I didn't believe him. "What about your lists? I've heard about you screwing with black haired guys, girls. There should be a hundred people who could confirm this."

"And you'd believe them?" he rested his hands on my hips. I was straddling his waist with my legs.

"What's not to believe?" I admitted. "You're the guy everyone wants to sleep with and everyone gets to."

Izaya smirked. "Is that what you think of me?"

"I already told you, I don't have the best opinion about you."

He exhaled. Got up and pecked me on the lips. I couldn't help pecking back. Just for a second, so I could feel his taste on my lips one again.

"Have sex with me," he asked.

"No."

"I asked you to be my sex partner," Izaya snapped. "You're the last one on my list. Do you know what the last one means?"

I brushed a hair strand out of his face.

"It means you're the last one I'll ever sleep with."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" I asked, confused.

"I am sick and tired of hating you," he answered.

Whoah there. "Hating...me?"

He pushed me away and I landed on the other side of the couch. Izaya climbed on top, kissing my neck. I arched into his touch, my body flushed with heat.

"I hate you," Izaya murmured. "I hate you so much. I hate you. I HATE YOU."

He bit my collarbone and I let out a groan. It was more pleasurable than painful.

"I've hated you since the first day I met you," Izaya said, while kissing my jaw. "Always with your brother and a group of friends. Always happy. Strong. Sexy as hell. I was drowning in hate, you know?"

"Izaya -"

He slapped his hand on my mouth. "Do you know how much I hate you for giving in to me so fast? You were supposed to push me away, beat the shit out of me. You were supposed to end this 27 madness. You were supposed to kill me with your 'no'. And look at us now?"

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back. Then, looked into my eyes and lowered himself. He kissed me. Slowly. Painfully.

"But no," he said. "You drive me mad. You become my 1. The real 1."

He stopped kissing me, stared deep into my soul.

"You should be my savior, yet you're the one I hate most." He laid down on me, breathing into my neck.

"I hate you too," I said, wrapping my arms around him.

"Have sex with me," he whispered. "Like you meant it. Like you want it."

"I don't want it," I said. "Why would I?"

"Because you're already in love with me," Izaya chuckled. "But you don't know it yet."

"Are you in love with me?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Good."

I slowly dragged my hands up, taking his shirt with me. Izaya complied to my mischief, tangling his fingers in my hair.

We attacked each other again, this time with brutality. Izaya dug his nails into my skin, kissing every patch of naked skin he could find. We rolled off the couch, ending up on his soft rug.

Izaya quickly went down, unbuttoning my pants. I panted, waiting until he was done with undressing me. I was painfully hard and when Izaya went down in between my thighs, I knew I would regret this later.

He took me in his hands, stroking not so gently. I liked the way he added more pressure to jerking me off. But the way he took me into his mouth was mind-blowing. He was experienced, he knew how to do it in a way you'd see stars. He swirled his tongue around the head, fighting for dominance. I moaned louder than I expected, earning a low chuckle from Izaya.

He took me all in, deep-throating without a gag-reflex. At that point, I was giving in, completely his for just that moment. Izaya let me go with a soft pop, getting back to my lips. We kissed and I struggled with his zipper. Izaya hummed into my mouth, helping me get rid of his pants.

We were both gloriously naked and all over each other.

He started grinding our dicks together, desperate for that friction. We stopped kissing, both looking down, our foreheads touching. It was animal pleasure. We only shared something without any loving feelings, except for mutual hate.

I finally understood the significance of hate sex.

Izaya let out a throaty moan, making my skin goose-bump. I forgot about the world, our scars, therapy, school, mom, dad, Kasuka... The only thing that was on my mind was how Izaya felt against me. His skin next to mine, our sweat mingling, our kisses frantic. It has been so long until I felt the heat of another person.

It hit me as hard as a rock. I was having sex with a guy and I was loving it.

Izaya stopped grinding and I moaned, asking for more. He lifted a finger to wait, got off me and ran off. I thought he stood me up, when he came back with a small bottle and a condom. Izaya pushed the lube into my hand.

"I'm not sure how to -"

"Give me your hand," he ordered.

I did. He spilled some lube into my hand, coating it. Izaya held onto my fingers, so that I had three prepared.

"One at a time," he said, guiding the hand down his body.

I immediately knew what was about to happen. I needed to stretch him for myself.

When I added the first digit through his tight ring of muscle, Izaya couldn't contain myself. His whole body shivered. I started going in and out, lubrication making it easier to move.

Izaya suddenly urged me to add another finger. I scissored him open. Izaya writhed in pleasure, panting and whispering my name.

The third one went in no problem.

He couldn't wait any longer. Yanked my fingers out, grabbed the bottle of lube and carefully coated my dick. I groaned at the friction, waiting until I could enter him, feel him for real.

Izaya wrapped his fingers around my dick, once again guiding it to his hole. We looked at each other before the inevitable. Izaya breathed in and slowly lowered himself onto me.

The heat was unbearable. It was scorching, combusting me.

"So fucking...tight..." I murmured.

Izaya gaped at my size, getting used to it with every inch.

He started moving.

I lost it. I lost my head completely. Izaya's erection bobbed up and down, joining him in riding my dick. I added some of my own strength into it, feeling that Izaya was the rough type. I was not mistaken.

He rocked his hips, arching his head back, hissing at open air. I angled myself twice, trice and hit the jackpot.

Izaya gasped, hoping I would hit the same spot again. My hands ended up on his erection, stroking it in the beat of our movements. We were loud. We were brutal. We were one.

I felt the tension in my groin. I was begging for release. Izaya noticed the change in my mood and rocked his hips faster, harder. Our moans mingled, we weren't making any sense. I left red streaks of my nails in his skin, he left the same marks on mine. Our injuries didn't matter.

All that mattered now was how our bodies fit together.

And then I was seeing stars. I blew my load inside of Izaya, who rode it out for me.

He followed not long after, covering my stomach with sticky white mass.

We stayed like this - him on top of me, I underneath, staring at each other and controlling our breaths.

Then, just then, did I realize I hated him more than ever before.


	11. Chapter 11

**Oh man, I haven't updated in so long, sorry you guys. I just had the roughest few weeks ever, University finals and such. I've had this chapter for forever, yet I couldn't bring myself to upload it until I was done with my exams. xD  
**

**Well, here we go again with daily updates. Sometimes I'm really scared I'm not doing a great job in writing, so I don't know. Do you find this interesting?**

**Thank you so much for so many favorites and your reviews, they all lightened up my day. **

**Also, to avoid confusion, Shizuo is suffering from one of the worst case depressions. People in this state usually depend on others more than they let on. I'm going to gradually "cure" him, teehee. Let's see how it goes, then.**

**Off we go.**

**Disclaimer: DON'T OWN DRRR.**

* * *

_Only in deep midnight all the lights close like tired eyes.  
And the banquet house drowns in the solemnity of sleep and dreams._

* * *

I disgusted myself. I felt dirty, used and out of place. Izaya collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily, his sweaty chest leaning against mine.

My eyes wandered around his arms, part of his chest and shoulders. Only now did I notice every little scar he had. It never occurred to me that beyond his shirt there would be constellations of scars, all of them white and miserable on his skin.

I lay there frozen, unable to move, growing limp beneath Izaya. His rapid breathing gradually changed into little gulps of air.

I heard a low chuckle erupt from his mouth. "That wasn't so bad, huh?"

I pursed my lips, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball, let the tears stream down my face and cut myself again.

Izaya propped himself up and looked into my eyes, clearly taken aback by the lack of response from me.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He was trying to be sincere, yet I could feel he didn't particularly care about what was going inside of me. "Didn't I make you feel good? Did I hurt you?"

I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him off. Izaya complied without asking any more questions, so I sat up, grabbing my now throbbing head.

We were messy, alright. I could see stains of cum on Izaya's rug, some of it on his couch. Izaya didn't seem to care. He was all too gloriously naked and sitting next to me, his head cocked to one side and his scars painfully affecting my eyesight.

"You…" I started, unsure if I really wanted to hear the answers to all of my questions. "You said you'd tell me about your 27 thing if I had sex with you."

I couldn't look at him at this point. My body was violated, every patch he touched and kissed burned nuclear. Why did it feel so good yet so wrong? Izaya's hand ended up on mine and I snagged it away.

Maybe he was hurt by my gesture. Maybe he wasn't. That damn flea certainly knew how to manipulate his way through emotions and acting.

"I did," he said. "I remember."

We sat like this, still filthy in our own lingering passion, before I heard Izaya take a huge breath.

"It all started when I was 12," he aired. This time, I trailed his fingers with my gaze, without having to look at him. "I had a meek obsession with Nirvana, especially Kurt Cobain. He was basically the most important person in the world to me. At that point, I was stupid enough to believe that he was still alive and the day I found out he killed himself was the day I figured out I needed a new obsession."

I glanced at Izaya for a second and was surprised to see his eyes unfocused. He was reminiscing something dear to him, something he maybe did not want to share with anyone. Part of me wanted him to suffer the consequences of his promise; the other wanted him to _stop_ talking.

"Shizu-chan," he breathed out longingly. "Since the age of six, I knew my life was going to be paced with obsessions. They were my guilty pleasure. I would obsess over anything, even the littlest things. My mother and father dragged me to countless therapy sessions, eager to remove my keen interest in things that were not suitable for kids. I was copying my favorite characters, shows, people. I wasn't _myself_.

"That's when Kurt Cobain stepped into my life. Every other obsession faded. I submerged myself in his world, started _thinking_ I was him and then my mother told me how he was dead for a long time."

Izaya looked up, straight into my eyes. "He died at the age of 27."

My eyes widened. "Wait, isn't that like the 27 club –"

He nodded. "I believe so, sugar cakes," he said, shuffling closer to me. Once again, I was drawn into him, his eyes, his breathing, his body, his scars. A single story and I was already obsessing over _him_. I didn't know what that did to my sanity. I didn't know if I wanted to find out. Right now I wanted to hear whatever Izaya had to say.

He stayed silent for three seconds before talking again. "I looked it up. 27. Amy Winehouse died at the age of 27, the newest addition, I suppose."

He snaked his arms around my waist, kissing the place over my heart. "Well, supposing I didn't have anything to obsess over, and my sole purpose was to obsess over one thing, I thought – I can create something of my own. Before you think I'm going to kill myself at the age of 27 – fat chance. I'm no celebrity. I prefer being a shadow and my life is too dear to me. I just thought that obsessing over a number was more profound than trying to be someone else."

"That's it?" I asked. "You could've told me this before we did anything."

"But that would've spoiled the fun, huh, Shizu-chan?" he winked at me.

I felt aware of every little scar on my hands. Izaya was so casually wrapped around me, his gaze never lingering on my scars – it was frightening. I was used to my mother crying whenever she saw them in broad daylight. I was used to see my father's disappointed look every time I had to roll my sleeves back.

Izaya did none of those things. He kept his eyes locked with mine, occasionally drifting to my hair. He brushed it with care, ruffled, played with it. That was the point that made him fairly human. How much of a human he was I couldn't tell.

He untangled himself from me, stood up and stretched. "Care for a shower together?"

"I'd prefer showering alone, thank you," I said. "And after that, you have to take me home."

Izaya rolled his eyes. "We could do a lot more, by the way. You could stay over and I could show you how _flexible _I can be."

"I'm not having sex with you again," I said, standing up and grabbing my clothes.

"Why not?" he pouted. "I thought we established that this relationship will not contain any feelings whatsoever, just animalistic pleasures."

"For the record, you're the first one I ever got involved with without feelings," I hissed. "I don't normally _do _this thing where you fuck like bunnies on every corner of the flat."

He bit his lip, making me blush.

"I don't normally hate the person I sleep with," he said, picking his shirt up. "We can make exceptions, you and I."

I stumbled before answering a straight no. I swore I could see a little bit of hurt in Izaya's eyes, yet the moment drifted away. He sighed. "Alright," he said. "I'll drive you back on one condition. You shower with me."

I was about to protest when he held up a finger. "We won't be doing any funny business. I have a strange crave to wash your hair. I swear I won't touch your dick or anything."

Considering I didn't know where we were and it was nearly 8 p.m., I decided my best chance was to follow Izaya's suggestion and get on with it. I nodded, slowly drowning in my own emotions. I was confused. Confused more than I've ever been in my entire left.

And for some reason, I could feel the old Shizuo awakening, somewhere deep inside of my dark dark soul.


End file.
